


Talk Me Down

by heroalba



Category: Senyuu.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Soft Kisses, senyuu spoilers implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroalba/pseuds/heroalba
Summary: Ros still has dreams of the times he wasn't safe. Alba always seems to be able to help, at least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> aaah i'm back in my element of writing angst/anxiety yaaay   
> this was a lot of fun to write and despite the nature of it really de-stressed me c:
> 
> also expect a lot of fics from me bc its NaNoWriMo and i dont have a novel to write so i guess i'll try to write 50k words worth of fanfiction to fit the quota ;w;
> 
> also also this is one of my first times writing in present tense please be gentle

Ros can’t breathe. His thoughts are too, too much and his chest is too, too tight. His hand clenches against his chest, fingers scraping over the slightly uneven skin under his shirt. His side is burning. Panic is liquid in his throat and Ros shakily exhales, memories flashing through his mind relentlessly and tears pricking his eyes.

He feels Alba shift next to him, still asleep and not plagued by nightmares, but he can’t will his voice to work, he can’t will out a plea for help. Ros feels paralyzed.

After several agonizing moments he feels the panic lessen. The cold, painful grip around his heart is still there but not so tightly. Ros feels himself suck in a hard breath. The air isn’t so cloying now, it’s easier to breathe. His chest feels hollow, like he’s been carved open and everything’s been laid out for the world to see.

He gets up- he wants to hide the evidence of his pain, he knows that much- but his shifting prompts Alba into sitting up as well, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Ros freezes as if he’s been caught. There’s silence for a moment, and then Alba’s hand is lightly brushing his shoulder, the hero crawling to sit quietly behind him. His hands move to Ros’s waist, arms wrapping around him to hold him gently in place.

Ros knows he can escape Alba’s grasp easily but his mind is blank. Alba’s chest is warm against his back, and he can tell that Alba has his cheek pressed to his shoulder. They sit again in silence. 

Ros feels the tears he’d unwittingly let fall drying on his face. The feeling is uncomfortable. His eyes burn.

“Are you okay?” Alba’s voice is soft, quiet. Ros doesn’t know how to answer, his lips pressing tightly together. The sound he forces out of his throat sounds like a noise from a wounded creature, and Ros finds the mental strength to berate himself for giving himself away so easily.

Alba nuzzles against his back, and Ros feels light pressure against his skin. Pressing, then lifting away. Pressing in a slightly different spot, lifting away.  “What are you doing?” His voice is rougher than he intended, if he intended it to come out at all, but Alba doesn’t flinch. He only pauses before the pressure lands again, right at the base of his neck. Alba’s reply rumbles out of him, smooth and warm against his back. 

“I’m kissing you. Do you want me to stop?”

Some emotion tries to rise in Ros’s chest and it makes him feel a little less empty. He feels as though maybe the only reason he isn’t falling into a million ragged, bloody pieces now is because Alba’s arms are around him, holding him together. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not. He doesn’t respond to Alba’s question, and after a few hesitant moments Alba’s lips fall on him again.

Soft pressure, then it lifts away. Alba somehow manages to  _ know _ , and he avoids the side of him that Ros still doesn’t consider  _ himself _ . It’s marked with a line of uneven flesh where he’d been cut into, where he’d been betrayed. Ros mentally stares at himself and avoids the line of scar tissue, avoids the way his mind is consistently turning over thoughts and memories he would rather not revisit. 

Ros thanks whatever deity he can think of that, tonight, his dreams hadn’t been of watching the boy behind him earn his own scar.

Alba keeps kissing him, and, slowly, it feels like the warmth comes back to him. Like each small point of pressure was pushing the pain and emptiness out. Ros’s fingers gently rub over where Alba’s holding him, trailing up his forearm to his hand. Alba jumps slightly from the feeling but lets Ros take his hand, their fingers lightly interlocking.

Alba places one final kiss to Ros’s back then presses his forehead to Ros’s shoulder, releasing a small hum from deep in his throat. The sound feels like his cue to relax, and Ros feels the tension ease out of his body.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, and Ros can hear the drowsiness masking the concern in his voice. It’s comforting, and Ros gently squeezes Alba’s fingers. It's all he has the energy for, and he doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he replies.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”


End file.
